One Wrong Turn
by Ski Mythical Ski
Summary: One night, she takes one wrong turn and it changes her life, forever. Now, she finds herself in 19th century Paris, France. She has a hefty secret, one that could be her downfall, and how do you hide such a stupefying secret, when all around you are abhorrent stagehands and intrusive ballerinas?
1. Chapter 1

**Warning: This is one of my first ever stories written in first-person. I am actually going to be taking recommendations from you guys because I hope this to be a more interactive story. Own nothing!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 _ **Chapter One**_

The Electric Lights flicker outside the window. The troops of soldiers march past, their navy blues blending with their face paints. They swap their guns to their other shoulders in unison, their Garrison caps set centre on their heads. The complexes surrounding the street are made of solid stone, like the streets themselves. The dome high above us is programmed with dark blues, reds, purples, and pinks. Far on the west side, the false glowing orb of light vanishes from the dome and into the false sea. The Electric Lights flicker from soft gold to an electric blue that makes the stones outside glow luminescent. The clock chimes and ticks, signalling curfew for all. The stone room is small and cramped, just like everything else here. A chair sits by the heater in one corner of the room and directly across from that, against the opposite wall, a twin size bed with tattered white sheets and no pillows. A small Electric Light hangs from the ceiling. A dark wood door sits beside a small one-pane window. There is over three million people in only thirty miles of space... And none of them like me.

It is long past curfew now. Midnight. A perfect time for dangerous adventure. Just like in the old fairy tales. I change from my Recreational clothes and into my Civilian clothes. These clothes consist of dark greens and light greens, making up patches that resemble the old army uniforms. I throw my Garrison cap on and adjust it just off the side like my fellow rebels. The Electric Light blinks red. Then out.

My eyes adjust to the pitch dark and I find the door. I find the divots I made in the wall outside my door and begin to climb up the complex wall, eventually reaching the roof, over one hundred feet from the ground. I feel a slight burning in my chest and look down to see a bright red pinpoint just over my heart. Looking across the street, I see a robotic watchtower with it's gun pointed right at me. I start running as fast as my legs will carry me. I reach the edge of the roof and make a jump to the one just a few feet away. I continue running and jumping until the burning pinpoint vanishes. Just as I catch my breath, another red dot appears on my chest. I continue on my escapade.

After what felt like forever of running, my vision flashes red. _Warning: System overheating. Cool down, now._ I stop and find a hatch on the roof of the building. I pull the thick metal covering open and drop inside, the hatch clanging shut behind me. I sink against a wall near me, the warning blinking then vanishing from my vision. I pull up my pant legs and sleeves to cool down. Wherever I am at is really cool... Temperature wise. My power is running low and it is taking a long time for my eyes to adapt. I rub my right arm with my metallic left one, the cold metal soothing my burning skin. It is so quiet here that I can hear the clinks of springs and the clunk of gears in my chest, left arm, and left leg.

Within minutes, my breathing calms and my eyes adjust, casting a thin beam of white light from each one. I rise and begin exploring this strange haven. I leave the tiny room and wind my way through thin passages, eventually finding my way down to the main floor. I gasp loudly at the foot of the stairs. To my right is another door, presumably leading out, and in front of me is... I do not know. It is a... strange surface that reflects, I can only guess, what is before it. I have heard of these before! I think they are called... mirrors? Maybe? I look at the cyborg staring at me. Her eyes are a striking blue and her waist length hair is a pastel of the same electric blue as the night-time Electric Lights. Her lips are a rust red from being chewed on and her skin is a pale white. She is somewhat tall. I hold up my hands and press them to the glass, my left one clinking as I do so. The light from my eyes bounces off the navy metal and back and forth between the mirror. Looking at them side by side, my left hand only contains the necessary parts and none of the excess like my right. I bend my fingers, watching the springs and gears tilt and shift, like the muscles, tendons, and ligaments that are in my right. Looking down, I see the reflection of my left leg. Much like my left arm, I can see the metallic pieces shifting and tilting as I wiggle my toes in my yellow combat boots.

I never really gave my cyborg parts a thought besides when I had to replace them. Even with the little to no money I had I was able to get decent parts and since I ceased growing I just polish these ones up every once and awhile to keep the dark navy colour gleaming. Looking back up in the mirror, I wished I could see the functions of my robotic heart. Oh, how amazing they would look! Sighing, I put my arms down and look away from the mirror. I shook my legs, sending my pant legs back down then pull my sleeves down. I looked up at the door and wondered what magic could reside inside. Maybe it was just like the old fairy tales! Castles and majestic worlds! Wars and horror stories! But, those were a thing of the past. Ever since the plague of over an eon ago, everything has been limited to the dome. Letting out a smooth exhale, I twisted the old style door handle and pushed open the door.

Nothing could have prepared me for what I found inside. Columns upon columns of papers bound by plastic and... wool? Sheep, I believe they were called, died out in the plague! Paper? Trees had gone with it too! Plastic? Well, actually that was not quite as unusual. The room was extensively dusty and it kept getting stuck to my fingers as I ran them along the spines, I think they were called, of the books. They were all so old! I took one from it's shelf and it fell to pieces in my hands. I shuffled to pick up the destroyed pages, reading what I thought might have been the cover. _The Hunger Games._ I made to take down another and it fell to pieces. _Harry Potter._ I made for another but gave up after this. _The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe._ I grazed about the strange room, touching and poking.

Soon I came to an empty bookshelf, then another, and another until finally I reached a wall. But a bright red speck within the bookcase caught my eye. I climbed up a few shelves to the shelf on which the bright red resided. I reached out to touch the red, I think, rose, wondering how it was still bright in this dreary place. I made to lift it, finding it plastic, but as I did so, gears and springs and other contraptions sounded behind the wall. A small spot on the wall beside me opened up to reveal, I think, a candle and a book. This was no ordinary book. The cover was a fine black silk wrapped around cardboard and the thing was dustless. I released the rose and took the book out. It did not fall apart. I tucked it below my arm and jumped from the shelf, landing with a thump at the bottom. I leaned back against the bookcase and spread out my legs before me. I took a few more moments to admire the beauty of the book. I laid it on my lap and it flipped open to reveal... a rose? An actual plant! It was pressed between the pages and I lifted up the vibrant red rose. Some of it's colour had been absorbed by the page but it still held most of its pigment compared to my pale skin. I laid it gently beside me on the carpet then flipped the book back to its starter page. The book bore no title that I could find. I flipped past the first few blank pages and soon found the beginning of the story.

 _Prologue_

 _The Opera Ghost really existed. He was not, as was long believed, a creature of the imagination of the artists, the superstition of the managers, or a product of the absurd and impressionable brains of the young ladies of the ballet, their mothers, the box-keepers, the cloak-room attendants, or the concierge. Yes, he existed in flesh and blood, although he assumed the complete appearance of a real phantom; that is to say, of a spectral shade..._


	2. Chapter 2

**There is some more explaining in this chapter about what is going on! Own nothing!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Two**_

This story was beginning to sound strangely familiar by the end of the prolog. When mother was alive, she told me a story of a ghost and a soprano from over an eon ago. Could this possibly be that same story? Most likely. I finished off the prolog and stuck the book under my arm using the pressed rose as a bookmark. I found the mirror and the stairs and climbed back up to the roof where I continued the same escapade as the night before. Soon, the false sun rose as I climbed down the wall and into my complex. I locked the door behind me and fell onto my bed for a much-needed recharge. When I woke again it was night but I felt no need to explore, for I had _a book._ I sat up on my bed and began to read Chapter One. As I read, I fiddled with the Destler family crest that lay over my heart. Mother had once told me that long ago, when the Earth was still fresh, that people wore crests to identify whose family they belonged to. We belonged to Destler which originated more years than I can count ago. I stroked the lions on the crest and looked down to see that the majority of the colour had now faded.

It took me nearly three days, but I finished the book. I really felt bad for Erik and ashamed at Christine but I found the Persian very funny. Now I wished even more that humans had not destroyed the Earth and forced us to live under lock-and-key. I wanted to go to France! I wanted to go to Persia! Russia! The United States! Britain! That is why I am a rebel. Us rebels want to explore and leave the dome, without fear of what lies outside. One day I swore to myself that I would, but, it is a group job and everybody despises me for both my history and my appearance.

When I was five, I was home with my mother and father and our complex caught fire. That was how I lost my arm and leg and how my heart was damaged. Anyways, I eventually got out but my parents did not. Then, the fire was blamed on me for no apparent reason. I spent almost twenty years in prison for a crime I did not commit.

Now, twenty-five years after the fire, I am still looked down upon. Now that I think about it, I am almost just like Erik. We are both outcasts and from the description of his face, I have seen worse… on myself. Those horrific moments after the fire. Seeing skin and muscle burnt away and down to the charred and crushed bone. I wince just thinking about it. The little money my parents had left for me was enough to supply for parts until I stopped growing at eighteen. Also, unfortunately, my female parts were damaged and my hormonal system was messed up, causing me to be neither male nor female, but I was a female at birth so I kept my hair long enough to be within Female's Code. I think Erik and I would make good friends. Both outcasts. Toleration of appearance. To quote the author: "Poor, unhappy Erik," _and poor, unhappy me._

Later that night, I threw the book in my satchel, the rose tucked safely inside. I threw the satchel over my head and under my arm. I then pulled up my hair and tilted my Garrison cap. I opened the door and continued on my antics from four nights before. I stopped at the library for a breath then continued the rest of the way to the edge of the dome. I approached the dome carefully, gracing it with my fingers. I pulled out my pocket knife and sliced open the dome. I crawled out and slid down the outside of the dome. I was free. I turned around to look at the new landscape. My eyes roved over and illuminated the rubble and ruins of buildings and the metal framework of… cars, I think? The air is smoggy and it is difficult to breathe. I shuffle through the concrete, glass, and plaster that covers the ground. Something in the distance moves and I freeze. A creature emerges from a pile of rubble. It has dark, long fur, matted with soot, pointed ears, and glowing green eyes. I think it is called a cat but I cannot be sure.

I must have walked all night for now a real sun is rising. It is so bright and I realize that the atmosphere must have diminished. It is getting harder to move my eyes, leg, and arm, and my metallic heart is slowing from the intense heat. I collapse to the ground in a heap, the satchel held tightly to my chest.

When I wake again, my arm and leg are spasming. I open my eyes and gasp. The sky is a cloudy gray and small buildings line the street I lay in the middle of. But what is most shocking, quite literally, is the white, cold powder that covers every surface. It must be some form of water or liquid because only liquids make my metallic parts spaz. Some more of the powdery white stuff falls from the sky and lands in my mouth. It melts into water immediately. I think I remember what it is called… snow? I think so. I decide that I should find cover before my parts freeze or break. I sit up, my whole body sore, and I grab my satchel, throwing it over my shoulders. I stumble to one of the buildings and find strange letters on it. Perhaps a different language? Mother told me that there was once more languages than English. Hopefully, I can figure out what is going on. A small alley sits beside it, the roof coming to cover it. There is no snow here so I decide upon huddling here for the night. I curl up in the corner of the alley and soon, my system shuts down from cold and exhaustion.

* * *

The streets were always deserted this late at night. I refrained from pulling my cloak tighter for that would show weakness and that must not happen. I pulled my fedora lower over my mask and turned into the alley by the bakery to shield myself from a passing carriage. The horse's hooves pass and a soft metallic clinking gains my attention. I turn to find a woman curled up in the corner of the alley. I kneel before her. She has a bright pastel blue shade of hair and wears patches of different shades of green as her clothes. The cap on her head is tilted a bit and a satchel is hung over her _petite_ frame. I reach out to find her pulse. I grab her left hand and gasp when I find metal fingers and joints that make up a hand and arm. How is this possible? In my curiosity, I put my ear to the woman's chest. This was where the metallic clinks were coming from. Did that count as a pulse? I suppose so. I felt a wave of protectiveness for the woman so I lifted her into my arms, bridal-style. I hailed a carriage, keeping my face concealed and laid the woman on the seat across from me. "As fast as you can to the Rue Scribe side of the Opera," I instructed the driver. We were off very quickly. It would take almost a half hour at this rate. I noticed the woman shivering and removed my gloves and cape. I slid the gloves onto her hands and covered her with my cape.

When the driver stopped I paid him double what I should have, then I lifted the woman from the carriage. I found my way to the Rue Scribe entrance and quickly stepped inside, beginning the trek to the catacombs. Despite my extensive strength, she was quite heavy and I could only begin to imagine her story. How interesting it will be! I laid her in the gondola and began to row across the lake. I hopped out of the gondola and unlocked the door to the house on the lake before going back for the woman. When I brought her inside, I laid her down on the divan by the fireplace. I set the fire and began to heat water for tea. I fetched the comforter from the Louis-Philippe room and brought it out for her. I took back my gloves and cape and threw them on my armchair that always resided by the fire. I draped the comforter over her and removed her cap before going to her feet. I untied her yellow boots and slipped them off, finding a metallic left leg. I looked up at her face to see if she had stirred. She was out cold. I set the boots on the floor at her feet and set the cap on the end table by her head. I lit a few candles about the room and by then the water was heated. I steeped my tea while I wet a cloth with warm water to place on the woman's forehead. I settled into my chair, sipping my tea and watching her.


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm going insane. Hope you had a great Easter if you celebrate it, if not hope you had a great day. Mine most certainly wasn't great but hopefully, this chapter will bring us all up! Own** ** _nada!_**

* * *

 ** _Chapter Three_**

I took to caring for the woman as she slept, wiping the soot from her hand, foot, face, and neck. A few times she shuddered but that could have been from any number of things. I laid my hand over her forehead testing for a fever, but her skin was cold. Frostbite. I heated water constantly, replacing the cooling cloth on her forehead with a warm one. I worked with gloves on to keep my cold hands from touching her and causing her to shiver over again.

I was rubbing her arm with warm water when it happened. She shuddered violently and began to scream. She shook harder and harder until I had to stand and back away. Her screams sounded a bit metallic and soon they became words. Garbled words that I could not understand. After my heart quit racing I approached the, now, whimpering and writhing woman. I pressed lightly down on her arms and began whispering to her. "You are alright. You are safe. Nothing can harm you here. Calm down, please. Calm down." Her shaking and whimpering slowed and the metallic clinking slowed with it. She laid back and I released her arms. I continued rubbing her arm with the warm water.

Three more days and six nightmarish episodes passed before the woman woke up. I sat silently in my armchair, watching and sipping my tea. She had been silent for too long now. The only assurance I had that she was alive was the metallic clinking in her chest. That metallic clinking was my cause for alarm. It began to speed up and I rose from my chair, setting my teacup on the end table. I came closer to her, fearing how she might react. I leaned over her and her eyes darted open and she bolted upright. I jumped back at the sudden movement and she eyed me with impossibly blue eyes.

* * *

My breathing was heavy and gasping. Red warnings flashed through my sight. _Warning: Breathing too fast. Slow down. Warning: Overheating is possible._ I calmed my breathing and looked at the man across from me. I stood and rose my right hand above my eyes in a salute. "Sir," I said firmly, eyeing him curiously. "If you would not mind, sir, I should like to return to my complex now, sir." He cocked his head at me and I noticed the strange curiosity in his gold eyes... gold eyes.

"English, correct?" His voice was smooth like honey and velvet.

"Yes, sir."

"Well, Madame, I fear that you do not know what is happening. Therefore, would you like me to inform you?"

"Yes, sir." What other choice did I have?

"For starters, put your hand down and sit down."

"Yes, sir." I sat on the piece of furniture behind me.

"Stop calling me 'sir'. The current day is eighteenth December, AD 1880 at," he looked at a piece of metal that he produced from his pocket "exactly four fifteen afternoon time. You are currently residing five floors below the Palais Garnier in Paris, France. As for me, I am no one. Now it is your turn to fill me in."

"My name is Tantomile Destler, sir, I am thirty years old. The date is April sixteenth, 1,000,002,027 PA, afternoon time, sir. I live in complex room eighty-seven, floor one. I must return home before the curfew chimes, sorry, sir." I made to get up but his hand on my left sleeve stopped me. He knew.

"Stay a while. Please." Was he literally begging me to stay? I looked up at him and I realized the mask. It was silk and black and covered the right half of his face. He had black hair that was slicked back and the most delectable golden eyes. He could only be one person and I voiced it without thinking. His head immediately perked up at my correct mention of his name.

"Indeed. Erik... Destler." This time my head popped up. A sly smiled played at his lips. "And how is it that you, you strange, mysterious girl, comes to know of the Phantom? And share his surname?"

"I do not know, sir."

 _"Stop calling me that."_ He pushed me back onto the piece of furniture and I stayed firmly planted there. He sat in the armchair by what I could only assume was a fireplace... with a fire in it! Excitedly, I crawled onto the floor and over to it. I felt his eyes boring into my back as I reached out my hand. I felt nothing so I swapped it for my flesh hand. I yelped and pulled away my burnt fingers. Erik knelt beside me and took my hand in his, tisking as he stood and wandered off. He came back later with a lot of strange objects.

"What is that stuff?" I asked curiously.

"Gauze," he pointed to a square of rough, white material. "Fabric tape," this was a roll of weaved white material. "And whiskey, to reduce the risk of infection." He pulled the cork from the bottle and poured a bit on my fingers, I yelped with pain as he did so. "Honestly, what idiot would touch fire?" He mumbled but my ears picked up on this.

"One who was destroyed by it and wishes to learn how it works so she can prevent others from being hurt as bad." He looked up at me and I felt tears well up in my eyes. I blinked them away when the warning came up.

"Did you not know that it would be hot?"

"It is not like the fire that I saw. _This_ fire is orange-yellow. The fire I am used to is blue-purple."

"Well, blue fire is hotter than orange. Either way that is no reason to try and touch it. Idiot."

"You are very mean."

"Why, I did not know!" His voice absolutely dripped with sarcasm. "Anyway, why do you have the same surname and how did you come across the information of the Phantom?"

"Did you grab my satchel? The answer to your second question is in there. As for surname, my mother and father once told me that the Destler family tree is quite large. So technically, we are related. It was also rumoured eon ago that the Phantom had a blemish free brother. I do not know if that is true or not. If you would like proof of my surname, I bid you a good look at this." I removed the family crest from my shirt collar and held it up for him to see. He eyed it curiously then waved for me to put it away.

"So, a fire was the cause of your metal arm and leg?" He said as he placed the gauze on my fingers then began wrapping it.

"There is more than that. I have a metallic heart and eyes, too. I also do not have any parts to reproduce, so I guess I technically cannot fall in love. Not that anyone likes me either way." I looked away in shame. His gloved hand appeared below my chin and I looked back at him, seeing he had removed his mask and what must have been a wig. His lip was distended and the tendons and ligaments of his cheek were visible. His hair was thin, tousled, and gray. A patch of skin was missing from that side, revealing skull and brain. I reached out and stroked that cheek and he flinched at the cold of my metal joints. "Sorry," I muttered.

"That is alright, Mademoiselle." He finished with my hand and helped me stand. I sat back down where I was before and watched him as he settled into the armchair.

"So... What are we going to do about me? I mean, obviously I have no idea how to operate in this time period, let alone speak."

"I can try to get you into ballet or chorus. If anything a job as a stagehand, maid, seamstress, costumer, or hairdresser."

"I have no clue what any of that is." I felt my cheeks heat pink. "My life has consisted of being in prison from age five to twenty-five and of sitting in a closet and running away from the army at night."


	4. Chapter 4

**I am hoping to post more regularly eventually! I swear! In the weeks to come, I may not post as often because I have hit my first writer's block for** ** _all of_** **my stories. Own nothing!**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Four**_

Erik looked at me with shock at my summary of my life. "Prison? At five years old?"

"Yes, I was put to blame for my complex setting fire. That was the night my parents died. And the night I was destroyed." The tears and warning popped up again. I breathed deeply and cleared my tears.

"Running from the army?"

"Yes, I was a rebel who wanted to escape the dome. I regretted it. Actually, now I do not but I did then. One night I found an ancient library where I found a book that detailed the events of the Opera house." I saw my satchel beside me and pulled out the book, holding it up. "I had never seen a book before so I stole it. I had also never seen a rose, let alone a plant, before and I stole it too. It was also the first time I saw myself because I had found, I think it is called, a mirror." He looked in shock at my words. Probably about the book, rose, and mirror.

"How? How is that? What?" I laughed at his wordlessness.

"The dome was built during the plague in 2023. Everything outside the dome was destroyed, demolished by the plague. Humans, animals, buildings, and plants alike. Is that a cat?" I asked as a gray furry thing jumped up on Erik's lap.

 _"Oui._ She is a Siamese. I call her Ayesha."

"There are different types of cats?" Erik laid his head back against the chair and sighed, clearly agitated.

"You are lucky I have not thrown you out on the street... yet." He looked back at my with a sly smirk.

"You would not!"

"I could if I wanted to. I have chloroform and a Punjab. Shall we begin with your nineteenth-century living lessons?"

"Yes, please."

Five hours later I found myself nearly asleep on the floor as Erik tried to teach me how to light a gas lamp. "Come on, it is so simple!" But I was already half asleep. Then gone. I woke on the divan and nearly rolled onto the floor as I shifted. A woman's voice began to speak. "Mademoiselle! Mademoiselle!"

"Ten more minutes!" I groaned.

"Mademoiselle, you must wake! The managers want to meet with you!" Cold water splashed my face and my eyes began to short. _Warning: Too much liquid!_ I quickly used the comforter to dry them as sparks burned the skin around my eyes.

"Giry! I told you not to do that! Do you not listen...? Are you alright?" His voice softened and I felt his gloved hands on my right one and pulling to my left. I lowered my arms to look at him, my vision blurry. Soon it cleared and I found him with his mask and wig on. Madame Giry stood behind him.

"Her... her hand! Her leg!" She gasped.

"Giry! Since when have I lied to you? I told you what she was like, yet you do not believe me! This is ridiculous! If you try anything like that again she will short and we will have nothing to fix her parts with. Alright, so do not try it again!"

"Erik, calm down. I am sure it is just fancy make-up." I smirked and shifted to stand. I walked up to Madame Giry and held out my left hand. She gripped it and jumped back as one of the springs jerked.

"Would you like more proof?" I knew it was bold and unladylike but I grabbed my shirt collar and pulled it down, unsnapping all the buttons. The whole left side of my body was metallic. I looked down at the bolts and screws holding the chest plate to my right ribs. The light from the gas lamps and candles bounced off the navy metal, casting shadows on the divots that were my metal ribs. "Need more proof?" I unscrewed the three screws and pulled the chest plate open on its hinges. Inside, I could see my chrome ribs and metallic heart. Mesh was wrapped around my organs and wiring to keep the metal heart from the damage caused by bodily fluids besides the blood that flowed through metal arteries, eventually connecting to flesh ones on my right side. "This is not elaborate make-up, Madame. This is me." Madame Giry looked incredibly repulsed but Erik came to my side, intrigued. He knelt and looked at my robotic parts, touching and poking. "Stop that, it tickles!" He pulled away with a great red blush and stood.

 _"Pardon."_ He muttered. "Introduce yourself."

"My name is Tantomile Destler and I come from the future." I gave a curtsy like Erik had taught me.

"That name does not sound French."

"I know that. Rumour from my mother is that, in my time, long ago there was a place where people and sing and dance in shows. One of them was called Cats and that is where mother said both our names were from. Others were called The Phantom of the Opera, Love Never Dies, Wicked, Les Miserables, and more. Anyway, what do the managers want?" I said this all while screwing my chest plate back into place and buttoning my shirt.

"They merely want to speak with you. I have a question. Since you are mostly, as you say, robotic, do you have a way of translating your native tongue into French?" Erik said, and I thought about this.

"In my time, the only language spoken is English but we can see it I have compatible software. Say something in French."

 _"Vous devriez probablement passer à une robe."_ I waited for a second while the script unfurled itself in my vision.

"You should probably switch to a dress?" I said cautiously.

 _"Oui!"_ He smiled and the English flashed in my vision.

"I got it right! Now, what about the inverse?" I accessed my electronic thoughts and memory banks and the settings and words filled my vision. _Command: Translate to French._ Enter. _Saying: I hope this works._ Enter. _"J'espère que cela fonctionne."_ I said the words without even realizing I said them and it only took a few seconds to enter the commands.

"I hope it works?" Erik asked.

 _"Oui."_ I replied. Now that I saved the translation command I was able to access it in milliseconds, even before I thought about it. This would be easy. Erik smiled at me.

"I think you are ready."

"I hope so."

"I will be right there with you. Giry, I believe it is now your turn to take over. There are still some dresses in the Louis-Philippe room." Madame held out her arm for me and so I did not freak her out I took hers with my right one. She led me down a hall and to another room where she began to help me dress.


	5. Chapter 5

**Oh, wow, look at that! I actually posted! Sorry, my phriends, I kind of got a writer's block, but I am back now and I have a bunch more chapters so if I keep this streak up I should have a long time of posting ahead of me! Anyways, let's get into the story! I own absolutely** ** _nada!_** **By the way, I have noticed I have a bad habit changing between Past and Present Tense, forgive me! I am bad at trying to write in the Present Tense which is what this is supposed to be! Cut me some slack, no one is perfect!**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Five**_

We had gotten on my chemise with ease and were now fighting to get the stockings on over my joints, and I came up with an idea. "Hold on, Madame. I have an idea."

"What is it?" She looked at me curiously.

"What if we wrap bandaging around my metallic parts to one, give them a more fleshy look, and two, make this a whole lot easier." Madame placed a hand below her chin in consideration. I laid back on the bed and waited for her decision.

"That is perfectly possible. I will be right back." She walked around the bed and vanished through the door. The Louis-Philippe room was exactly like the book except it lacked in Christines. I pulled the stockings back off and Madame returned a few seconds after that. She handed me a roll of bandaging and I began to wrap my arm. I made to twist it to adjust the bandaging and it ripped on a gear.

"Well, that idea was trash," I said as I pulled off the material and Madame's piece ripped on a spring. "We could just half the stockings until I can make my own." Madame looked at me like I was a lunatic but reluctantly agreed and went off to find scissors. I picked up a pair of stockings and decided where I wanted to cut them. Madame returned and I took the scissors and cut the left leg off of the stockings. Madame took them and held the cut edge over a burning candle to prevent fraying. "As for other pieces of clothing, I will need at least knee-high boots or an extravagantly long dress to be on the safe side." Madame pulled a pair of boots from the wardrobe as I slid the solo stocking onto my leg with ease.

"You will need to pick a dress that will work with your top half." I stood and made my way to her. I found a plain navy blue dress that came up a little higher than others and would cover from my collarbone down to my wrists and from my collarbone to the ground. The boots that Madame had taken out would fit perfectly over both my legs and they indeed came up to my knees, they were made of... leather? And the inside was coated with soft fur that matched the black leather. "And now comes the part that everyone hates. The corset." Madame held up the corset and I eyed it curiously. I stood still as she placed it around me and I clipped it shut to her instruction. There was one problem though.

"Madame, what are we to do about my lack of a bosom?" It was definitely a strange question and I felt incredibly shy to ask it.

"We do nothing." I gasped when she pulled the corset strings tight and tied them. The front of the corset bulged where my bosom should have been.

"But this just looks strange. I mean, to have that weird gap." I motioned the gap and blushed when she looked as well. "What if we just tuck fabric inside to fill it? It would make it look a little more 'right'." Madame agreed to this and we began to roll up the left leg of the stocking. Surprisingly, it fit perfectly. I knew these were once Christine's clothes but I did not think her that small. At least her dress fits me right. Or did Erik go out and get new dresses for me? Whatever it was I was shaken from my thoughts as petticoats were pushed into my hands. Madame helped me step into them and she tied them over the corset. I swirled around a bit then she placed the dress in my hands. I helped her lift it over my head and she laced it up. I sat down on the bed and pulled on the boots then tied the top rim tightly over my metal parts and calf. When I stood again I swirled around a bit to let the fabric loosen. Madame watched me and soon grabbed my hand to position me in front of the wardrobe mirror. I was still getting used to this whole 'being able to see myself' thing and gasped at the sight of the mirror. My pastel blue hair was a ratty mess and Madame began to brush it out and braid it. She tied the ends together with a navy bow. "What do you think they will say?"

"Mademoiselle, you have nothing to worry about. Trust me. Your hair and eyes are very different in this time period but you look absolutely stunning." It _was_ true. I looked very pretty and the deep blue dress brought out my electric hair and eyes. "Are you ready to meet the managers?" I sighed deeply.

 _"Oui."_

The passages were freezing. It was intolerable even with a thick navy cape over my shoulders. I would have to get used to all this stuff. Before we were about to leave the tunnels, I stopped Madame Giry. "Can you do me a favour?" I held up my hands which were now encased in black leather all the way to my elbows and over my sleeves. She took my arm and tied the lace tightly so that the gloves would stay on. She did the same with my other glove before she gently pulled open a two-way mirror. I stared in awe at the beauty of all the little trinkets in her office. Before I could get a good look, my right hand was grabbed and I was pulled away from the office. The halls and all the people were a true sight to behold. The girls scurried through the halls dressed in little dresses and tutus. Madame grabbed a teenager by her hand. The girl's hair was a mix of blonde and red and her blue eyes looked very gentle as they peered at me.

"Meg, where are the managers?"

"They left. They said they would be back in a few hours. Who is this, Maman?"

"This is Tantomile Destler. Tantomile, this is Meg. Meg, would you mind showing her around?"

 _"Bonjour,_ Tantomile. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Come on, let's go!" Meg curtsied then took my hand and pulled me away. We started the tour with the ballet dormitories and eventually made our way to the foyer. I hardly paid attention. I was more busy admiring every little thing. I was broken from my trance when I felt a sharp pinch on my arm. I looked up at Meg.

"Can you hear me? How long have you been in France?"

"Only a few days." She seemed to recoil at the metallic sound of my voice. "I come from Canada. I have wanted to travel since I was very little and I must say this world is so very different and beautiful." Meg and I began our way back to the dormitories, bombarding me with questions which I tried to answer as truthfully as possible without giving myself away. This was difficult to do since Meg was such a prying girl and, apparently, the new Prima Donna yet her mother made her practice with the ballet, too. By the time we reached the dormitories, I was feeling faint. I had not eaten for almost a week. "Meg, can you be a lamb and fetch me some food?" She vanished in an instant. I sat down on the cot that she told me was hers and waited for her swift return. She came back with a plate of French delicacies. It was actual food, made of actual plants, made and served by actual human beings! And it was gone in mere minutes. Meg offered me water and it tasted delightful! _Water!_ It was a true dream come true.

Madame Giry came in a few minutes later to take me to my room which was more of a broom closet with a wardrobe and cot stuffed inside. Madame left me and I immediately slept on the cot without thinking twice.


	6. Chapter 6

**Aloha, friends! I have finished this story and the way it looks is ten chapters plus an epilog! In other words, very short.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Six**_

I was awake at almost midnight according to my internal clock. I sat up from the cot and moved around the room, removing parts of my dress as I went. Eventually, I made it down to the chemise and collapsed in exhaustion onto the bed. I do not remember falling asleep but I must have for the next thing that happened was Meg shaking me awake. I rolled over to my other side and covered my face with my left arm. I heard Meg's soft gasp. "So it was true. You have to get up sometime, you know. Maman wants you and if you upset her she will _not_ be happy." I rolled back over and pulled myself up as Meg went to fetch a dress from the wardrobe. This one was a pastel blue to match my hair and eyes. "Up, up. Come on." Meg said after I curled back up on the bed. She grabbed my hands and pulled me up, stuffing dress parts into my arms. "Get those on then I will come tie your corset and such." I made my way into my stockings and petticoats and by now Meg had returned to lace my corset. I took the remnant stocking and put it in place before Meg lifted up the dress and we got it on. She went behind me and pulled the laces tight and I gasped. "You get used to it. We have five minutes until Maman wants to see you. Tell me about yourself, liar." That being said, I relayed as much as I dared about my life.

"Will you help me get my gloves on?" I finished. I held out the cold leather to her and she helped me tie them on. "And now, to face Madame!" Meg giggled as she lead me through the halls and up many flights of stairs. "Are we there yet?" I complained.

"Almost." We went down yet another hall and Meg stopped. "Have fun!" She said sarcastically. I sighed and opened the door. Madame waited in a chair by the fireplace, hands in her lap.

"Hello, Tantomile. I spoke to the managers and they have agreed to give you the job of a stagehand. It will be very difficult working around the male stagehands but you are strong so you will manage." I nodded.

"Thank you so much!" I skipped over and gave her a hug. "When do I start?"

"On the morrow." I nodded.

"Is there a certain clothing requirement?"

"Yes, Meg will take you out to get the clothing that is required."

"Alright. Thank you again."

"Good luck." I let myself out to find Meg just down the hall talking to some other ballerina. The ballerina scurried off and Meg turned to me.

"Shall we be off?" She asked, holding out an arm to me.

"Of course."

Paris was stunning. I was never ready for this. A crystal blue sky with soft puffy clouds, cobbled streets, snow, ice, and horse-drawn carriages! I thought they were horses, at least, so, I asked Meg. "Yes, those are horses. Do you honestly know nothing, woman?" She replied, laughing.

"I am not very acknowledged in anything. I spent the majority of my life in juvenile prison, remember? At least I can read." I said defensively.

"Alright, alright," she said, backing away slightly. "And now, I will teach you the ways of the 19th century!" Meg then proceeded to call out for a carriage and a pale blue one pulled by gloomy gray horses stopped for us. Meg helped me up then sat across from me, tapping the roof. The carriage jolted and I with it. Meg laughed at my failure to stay upright.

"That was not funny, missy," I said playfully.

"Oh, yes it was!" I huffed and sat back on my seat, instead of turning to the window. "I am sorry."

"There is no need to apologize. I am used to it." The carriage stopped and I looked up.

"We are here!" Meg helped me out and paid the driver. I looked around at the street of small shops. There were so many and so many colours and smells and sounds! It was a beaut. Meg lead me around but I paid no attention to her ramblings, instead interesting myself in all the different colours and gadgets around. I felt a pinch on my arm and looked over at Meg, the culprit. "Try these on for size." She handed me two shirts and a pair of pants and so I went to the little room in the back of the shop. Meg came to check on me, and, finding me in disarray of how to put myself together, instructed me on how to layer the clothing. She showed me how to button and adjust the "poets shirt" collar and how to fix the "vest" and how to use the "waistcoat" and that they were not called pants but "trousers." I nodded all along, not really paying attention but instead being, once again, distracted by a mirror. "Stop staring in the mirror, I need you to pay attention!" I snapped my gaze back to Meg who now held a long strip of fabric. "It is called a cravat and I recommend you wear one." She moved towards me and showed me how to tie it. "Without it, one of your bolts would have been visible through your collar," she explained.

"Thank you. Now, shall we find more outfits?"

"We shall, I am paying."

"I would expect that. I have no money." We laughed and I changed back into my dress. Meg helped me find six more outfits all of the same. A white poets shirt and a black vest, cravat, waistcoat, and trousers. I would have preferred all black but she insisted that for propriety I should wear a white poets shirt. After our bout of shopping, we went to a small café and ate a light lunch before I stopped Meg. "I was wondering, maybe, if you would take me to the instrument shop just down the road."

"Sure!" She grabbed my hands and tugged me into the shop. The shop was filled with all sorts of instruments and such and my eyes immediately settled on a beautiful chestnut coloured violin. Meg followed my gaze. "No." She said flatly.

"Why?" I pleaded, grabbing her bag leaden hands.

"I do not have that much money and I most likely never will, neither will you so just give up on it."

"How much is this violin?" I called to the clerk. He came up to me and looked at the violin lovingly.

"The Stradivarius. A very good violin, indeed. Rare, too. The only one in Paris. Made of the finest spruce, willow, and maple wood and only using the best strings. This particular one is being sold for almost three thousand francs. No one has even come near it."

"That is a lot of money." I sighed. "I have always wished to play violin, ever since I heard it's glorious tones."

"It's tones indeed are glorious but I must ask now that if you will not buy anything to leave."

"Perhaps I will return when the money finds it's way to me," I said as Meg and I began making for the door.

I sighed as I laid down to sleep that night. Oh, how I truly wanted that violin! How I yearned to feel it's cool bout beneath my chin! I tossed over a few times before I heard the soft notes of the violin. At first, I thought I was dreaming it but it got a bit louder and a man's voice began to sing with it. As soon as I heard those combined notes, my mind was blank and dark.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Aloha**_ **. Before we begin, I would like to say something to all you lovely Phans! I am going to start posting a story on Wattpad, most likely tomorrow, and I would love it if the members of Wattpad would check it out. I do not yet have an official name, but I can be found at KaylynPalmeter. This Phan-Phic is unlike any I've ever written, or read for that matter. So, here is my unofficial summary: You are a patient at Alton Mental Hospital in Illinois. You are trapped in this Hell for a crime which is too gruesome to tell and your sentence: the rest of your life. You are now insane and the worst part is, about to be euthanized.**

 **This chapter gets a bit intense. Warning: If you do not like rape, wait for the next chapter.**

 **Enjoy! Well, not** ** _really._**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Seven**_

I was woken once again by Meg's incessant yammering. "Get up!" She yelled, shaking me with all her might.

"Fine!" I gave in, sitting up.

"You will have to learn to get up early if you want to work here. Now, let's get you into your clothes before you strangle yourself with a cravat."

"Hey, do not give me any ideas." I stood and stretched and Meg threw my clothes at me. She helped me dress and did up my hair in a braid.

"I am so jealous of your beauty." I heard her mutter. "But, then again, you stick out in the crowd." I found it best not to respond to her comments. "All done! Ready to meet the company?" She then helped me with my gloves and I threw my boots on over my trousers. Meg grabbed my hands and began leading me off to the stage.

We found a gathering of differing aged men and Madame who watched me with an anxious gaze. One of the men stepped forward with an air of stern authority. I held out a gloved hand for him and he pressed his lips to my knuckles. "Mademoiselle Destler, I am Richard Firmin and this is Gilles Andre. We are the managers of the Opera."

"It is a pleasure, Monsieur," I said as a short mousy man waved to me.

"I am Patel, the chief of the flies." A plump man stepped forward and I could practically taste smoke and alcohol. I tried my best not to gag. He then went on to introduce the rest of the stagehands, but, of course, I paid no attention to them. Instead, I looked out to the auditorium. I could only begin to imagine what the seats looked like full! And to think, one slip of a stagehand and the show is ruined! I was then lead through the flies and catwalks, catching glimpses of bright topaz in the shadows. I smiled when I saw a glimpse of white. We went back down the to the stage and continued to go through procedures. I looked over at Meg who was trying to suppress a yawn of boredom. Soon, I was released to go to the Opera's café. The rest of the day passed with rehearsals for the next Opera, _Carmen_. I was shown the basic mechanics of the set pieces and even got a few whispers in the ear from my Uncle with basic tips and tricks. I even got a glimpse of his cape and tried to nab it when I was left alone.

Soon, the performance for the night came. I stood in the rafters with a drunk Patel at my side. A _very_ drunk Patel, might I add. I peered down and waited for our cue to change scenes. I caught the cue and moved to the ropes. A grimy hand tugged my left forearm. I spun on my heel to see Patel smirking, a dark glint in his eyes. "Don't worry, sweetie, the men'll take care a it." He slurred, spitting a bit in my face. I calmed my breath and went to pull my arm away. Patel pinned me down beneath his piggy body as the ropes and gears went off to change the scene. "A pretty one like you shouldn't be doin' a man's job, should ya?" I made to squirm out from beneath him but he pressed against me harder. "Shall we take ya down, slut?" he said as he began to pull at my waistcoat and trousers. I fought harder against him as he tugged the waist down and took a hand to my hair. "Some unique hair ya got, eyes too?" He froze and a felt a pull on my left leg. "Wa's this, I feel?" I tried to push him off but he grabbed the gloves off my hands. His eyes widened when he saw my left hand. "Lil' secret, I see?" He began to fiddle with my wrist and one of the bolts came loose, sending it dangling by only its wires. I froze wondering how I would fix it. He smiled at this and took it as his cue to remove my top half of clothes. I slapped and kicked and bit but he was much too heavy and wide. I fought even harder when I felt Patel's hands prodding at my bare chest. I looked down to find his hands unscrewing my chest piece. I fought harder and began to cry until I noticed a shadow looming behind Patel, a noose the only thing aglow in the candlelight.

The rope found it's way around Patel's neck and lifted him up and around to face his attacker. He fell limp a bit later and those gleaming eyes turned on me. I curled up in a ball and began to whimper and shake harder than ever before. I heard a soft humming in my ear as I felt warm, strong arms lift me up and cradle me gently. I curled up against Erik and he began to sing softly. _"Sleep my little child, calm down my little child. Dream about the stars in the sky. Dancing with the snowflakes, icy crystal cornflakes, to a winter lullaby. Drifting on an ice flow, we bears travel slow through the seas where waters run deep. High above the stars glow, glitter in the white snow. Come the night you fall asleep."_ He continued to sing but before I could process the words I was drifting into unconsciousness.

When I woke, the faint sounds of the piano drifted to my ears. They played an intricate melody, or what I would call intricate. I tossed a bit and the piano stopped. I felt a cloth pressed into my right hand and I began to recall what all had transpired. As soon as I opened my eyes I curled up and began to sob tearlessly. I felt hesitant hands in my hair and stroking my back before I realized someone was speaking and trying to comfort me. "You are safe now, Tantomile. No one can hurt you anymore." I looked up to Erik's face. Deep in his eyes, I saw pity and sadness. I felt his cool hands on my cheek, rubbing light circles comfortingly. I moved and rested my head on his shoulder, nearly causing him to topple. He embraced me awkwardly from the floor and I felt a small giggle bubble at his nerves. He began muttering in my ear again and a sudden thought occurred to me.

"Erik," I whispered softly. "Is he... is he dead?"

"No, dear, he is not. I have asked for his removal but the managers refused. I know what you feel like, trust me. I was raped by my Gypsy cage master when I was about thirteen." I pulled back a bit to see even more sadness in his eyes. "I killed him in self-defense but was nearly hunted down either way." He turned away and stared at the ground. "What choice did I have?" He sobbed, then looked up at me, a glistening in his eyes. Tears began to stream down his masked and unmasked cheek. I held out the cloth in my hand to him and he took it to wipe his tears. I crawled down on the floor next to him and that was when I noticed that my chest piece and hand were still unbolted. I wore a lacy nightshirt that fell down past my knees that looked as if it belonged to Meg. I unfastened the top buttons and fixed my chest piece before accessing myself for any more damage. Erik watched from beside me as I poked and prodded my metal parts. A few bolts were missing from my knee, elbow, ankle, and wrist joints and a metal rod that substituted for the ulna was broken. Seeming to read my mind, Erik produced a handful of cobalt blue bolts and nuts. I took them from him and set them down next to me.

"Please help me with this," I said, looking up at him.

"What do I need to do?" He said. I saw a gleam of happiness in his eyes.

"I will help you. Take my metal hand and fit it against my wrist joint." He did so and I handed him a nut, showing him where to put it through and how to secure it with a bolt. We did the same with all the other missing pieces. I could tell he enjoyed the puzzle. When we finished with that, he looked to the broken rod in my arm. "It happens a lot. Do you have any metal rods I could use as a replacement?" Erik nodded and scurried off. He returned with a chrome looking rod and I showed him how to take out the broken one and put in the new one. Surprisingly, the new one fit better than the old one.


	8. Chapter 8

**Please don't hurt me. I own nothing.**

* * *

I stayed down below with Erik for quite a number of days. He treated me with respect and gave me all the things I asked for, though they were few. I sent letters up to Madame and Meg and we sent back in forth, driving Erik insane. I had him play the violin and piano for me when I felt for it and he even brought down some pairs of clothes for me. Then the day came when I decided upon bathing myself. I sat on the edge of the claw footed tub, just staring at the tap. My robe gently dusted the floor and the inside of the tub, where I wished I could be. I could disassemble my parts on my own but I began to debate. Erik just wanted to help with everything and he loved puzzles. Besides, I had no clue how to use the taps. A soft tapping on the door echoed into the bath chamber. "Tantomile? Do you need anything?"

"Yes, I need your help, please come in!" I yelled out, standing and going to sit on the bed. He came in and sat beside me. "Do you have some sort of blade? Like a pocket knife or something small like that?" He looked at me with stunned shock. "I want to take a bath and I need something I can use to unscrew my metal parts." He instantly relaxed.

"Yes, I do." He produced a little knife from his pocket and I took it from him. "Do you need help?"

"Yes. I figured you might like doing this because it is the equivalent to a puzzle." I then went on to show him what and where to unscrew and soon, my arm was wrapped around his shoulder as he helped me stand. My metal pieces lay strewn across the bed along with their wires, nuts, and bolts. My own wires were tucked away and Erik helped maneuver me into the bath chamber then began running taps. I sat on the ledge and dismissed him before sinking into the steamy water.

Erik averted his eyes when I called him in to help me out of the tub. "Oh, come on! This is nowhere close to indecent! Surely you have seen men without shirts, think of me as one of them." This changed his train of thought completely and he helped me out without argument. We then proceeded to but my pieces back together, Erik so immersed that he refused to let me help until he messed up my wiring and had me do it correctly. This lead me to believe him colourblind because the sockets and wires were colour coded. After this he fetched me a breakfast tray and I ate the glorious food instantly. I noticed Erik watching me and decided to ask why he was doing so.

"You eat as if you have not eaten in weeks. That is all I am willing to say, for I believe it proves my point." And it did.

"In my time, our food is made of plastic and we have no _real_ water." I took a bite of an apple. "Until I came here, I had never tasted anything so real, so fresh, so textured or flavourful." I took another bite. "After eating plastic and drinking _"water"_ for your whole life, to eat something that was once _alive_ is a beautiful thing. You people take it for granted."

"Indeed, some people do."

The next day, Erik lead me up to my dressing room as he had deemed me recovered. We said goodbye and I even drug him into a hug. He disappeared through the paneling and I took note of where it resided. Meg came in and lead me to the stage where we watched the other ballerinas practice as Madame had given Meg a day off. Meg took me to lunch in the Opera café then we went for a ride and I once again found myself before the Stradivarius in the little instrument shop. "Finally get some money?" the clerk asked as he stepped to my side.

"No, Monsieur, I am so sorry for standing around but I am just so drawn to it." I sighed. "Come on, Meg, let's leave." I took Meg's hand and we left the shop.

I got Madame Giry's permission not to partake in the rafters where Patel was chief, instead, I was placed on the stage floor. Most of my job on the stage floor was fairly easy, passing along props. I even made first name acquaintance with the stagehand James Schmit. He was a gangly boy, no older than twenty with bleached blonde hair and dark brown eyes. At the end of the performance I caught sight of him slipping off with an older ballerina. With no real idea where I was going, I aimlessly walked the halls. Soon, I found myself on the roof, looking down at the bright city. I dusted the snow from the base of Apollo and sat down against the statue.

I began to recall a lullaby my mother used to sing for me. Tapping the melody on the statue's base, I began to sing the song softly to myself. _"There was a time when I was alone, nowhere to go and no place to call home. My only friend was the man in the moon and even sometimes he would go away, too. Then one night, as I closed my eyes, I saw a shadow flying high. He came to me with the sweetest smile, told me he wanted to talk for awhile. He said, 'Peter Pan. That's what they call me. I promise that you'll never be lonely.' And ever since that day, I am a lost boy from Neverland, usually hanging out with Peter Pan, and when we're bored we play in the woods always on the run from Captain Hook. 'Run, run, lost boy,' they say to me, 'away from all of reality.' I am a lost boy from Neverland, usually hanging out with Peter Pan, and when we're bored we play in the woods always on the run from Captain Hook. 'Run, run, lost boy,' they say to me, 'away from all of reality.' Neverland is home to lost boys like me and lost boys like me are free. He sprinkled me in pixie dust and told me to believe, believe in him and believe in me. Together we will fly away in a cloud of green to your beautiful destiny. As we soared above the town that never loved me I realized I finally had a family. Soon enough we reached Neverland, peacefully my feet hit the sand And ever since that day, I am a lost boy from Neverland, usually hanging out with Peter Pan, and when we're bored we play in the woods always on the run from Captain Hook. 'Run, run, lost boy,' they say to me, 'away from all of reality.' I am a lost boy from Neverland, usually hanging out with Peter Pan, and when we're bored we play in the woods always on the run from Captain Hook. 'Run, run, lost boy,' they say to me, 'away from all of reality.' Neverland is home to lost boys like me and lost boys like me are free. Neverland is home to lost boys like me and lost boys like me are free. Peter Pan, Tinkerbell, Wendy Darling, even Captain Hook. You are my perfect story book. Neverland, I love you so, you are now my home sweet home. Forever a lost boy at last. And for always I will say, I am a lost boy from Neverland usually hanging out with Peter Pan, and when we're bored we play in the woods always on the run from Captain Hook. 'Run, run, lost boy,' they say to me, 'away from all of reality.' I am a lost boy from Neverland, usually hanging out with Peter Pan, and when we're bored we play in the woods always on the run from Captain Hook. 'Run, run, lost boy,' they say to me, 'away from all of reality.' Neverland is home to lost boys like me and lost boys like me are free."_ By the end, I found myself standing on the ledge of the roof, my arms spread wide. I closed my eyes and leaned forward.

 _Neverland, I love you so, you are now my home sweet home. Forever a lost boy at last..._


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey look at that I'm back, back, back, back again. Own nothing.**

 **Enjoy! Actually, no, don't, it ends badly.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Nine**_

Tantomile's voice was magnificent. She wandered around the roof as she sang the soft melody. It was a slow, sad song, despite my not knowing of what it spoke of. I held the violin case closer to me as the girl moved about. I had watched her every move and purchased the beautiful Stradivarius violin for her. I now thought about playing it for her but I was too late as the song finished and I looked up to see her on the ledge with her arms spread wide. I nearly dropped the violin in my haste as I ran to her. Just as she leaned forward, I wrapped my arms around her waist, the violin case still held tightly in my grasp. Tantomile was much heavier due to her metal parts and as she fell, I was drug down with her.

 _Down once more, to the dungeons of my black despair. Down we plunge to the prison of my mind..._

* * *

I bolted up from my bed, panting, sweat running in streams down my face. I calmed my breath and heart before looking around. I was back in my complex room, just as I had left it that night. "It was all a dream!" I yelled, pounding my fists on the bed. I looked down and my breath hitched. I was still wearing my old clothes! Hurriedly, I looked to the clock. Almost sunrise, I had to change quickly! I stood and swung my bed into the wall to access my clothes chest. I dug out my Civilian clothes and changed into them while stuffing away my old clothes. I pulled my white button up on and adjusted and buttoned the sleeves before pulling on my cobalt blue pants with gold rope down the sides before pulling on my cobalt cadet coat. I buttoned up the rows of gold buttons before fixing my gold and gold roped epaulettes. I shoved on my knee high "leather" boots. I pulled my collar up tight to my neck and released my hair from it's ribbon just as a knock sounded on the door. I jumped and pulled down my bed before bolting to open the door. I went into army stance with my right hand in salute. Everyone else were already out and in stance and I almost blushed. "Do not be late out again!" Snapped the complex manager.

"Sir, yes, sir." I yelled back.

"Hand over your keys!" I dug through my pocket and held them out.

"Sir, yes, sir!" He took them and hung them on his much larger chain.

"Report to the town centre at o'eight hundred hours!" He yelled to the complex.

"Sir, yes, sir!" The complex yelled. We all went inside and I turned on the heater and made my bed. I sighed and sat down on the bed. I began to think about Erik and eventually peered over at the clock. I sprung up and ran out the door. Five past o'eight hundred hours! I ran and ran until I caught sight of an amber glint in an alley. I made to pass it up but when I heard that silky whisper I stopped and stared into those gleaming eyes that rose and slowly came closer.

"Tantomile..."

* * *

When my head quite spinning I sat up and looked around. I was in an alley looking out at a bleak, gray street with tall gray buildings. The sky was the colours of sunrise. Suddenly, I heard hundreds of door open and shut along with hundreds of footsteps in unison. A dead silence fell and I heard a loud knocking not very far away. I heard a door open and a man's brusque yelling. "Do not be late out again!"

"Sir, yes, sir!" I suppressed a gasp when I realized whose voice it was who yelled back in response. Tantomile!

"Hand over your keys!" I heard the shuffle of fabric and the jangle of metal.

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"Report to the town centre at o'eight hundred hours!"

"Sir, yes, sir!" Hundreds of voices yelled together. There was the sound of footsteps and doors slamming in unison with each other. So this is what the future is like. A few minutes later, doors opened and slammed in unison. People passed by the alley wearing army style uniforms and marching together. Women wore their hair down to their knees and men had hardly any hair at all! The rows of people soon vanished and I deemed it safe to move. Every sound was magnified a hundred times in the dead silence. I realized I still held the violin and case and smiled. I inched closer to the street when suddenly, fast footfalls came toward me. I nearly fell back when I saw Tantomile standing in the street in her deep blue clothes and hair let loose.

"Tantomile..." I muttered softly.

* * *

I stood stock still as Erik slowly approached me. "We will be killed for this!" I muttered. I looked up and down the street and seeing no one there, I grabbed Erik's arm and ran down the road. I shoved him into my complex and slammed the door then yanked the curtains shut. I moved the chair from the corner in front of the door and fell into it in exhaustion. Erik looked at me from where he stood in bewilderment. "We will so be killed for this! We have just about broken every law known to me! What do we do?" I yelled, trying to vent my anger and fear. Erik sat down on my bed and laid a black leather case beside him. His eyes followed mine and he opened the case to reveal the Stradivarius violin. I smiled and reached out to touch it but was interrupted by a loud knock at the door. My eyes widened as I mouthed for Erik to hide. He stood in the corner and pulled up his cape as I moved the chair away from the door. I opened the door and made it to army stance.

"Destler! This is the fifth time this week! Do you have an excuse for these absences?" The complex manager yelled.

"Sir, no, sir!" I yelled back. In a time like this, honesty was the best policy.

"Well then why have you been late for meals and stances?"

"Sir, I do not know, sir!"

"Well you should know!"

"Sir, sorry, sir!"

"Sorry never solved anyone's problems!" I was shoved aside as he began a search of the complex. Not knowing what to do and in complete shock, I just stood and watched as the complex manager spun Erik around by the shoulder. "Ah-ha!" He yelled triumphantly. He began to poke and prod Erik a little harder than was necessary and began remove assorted items from his person. The catgut Punjab, sword, assorted mini knives, a pistol, quills, blank music sheets, and a vial of red ink. He threw these all onto my bed before grabbing the both of us by the upper arms and dragging us through the street. He then began listing off the laws we had broken. "Possession of unassigned clothing articles, wearing unassigned clothing articles, possession of weapons and the unknown, harboring humans, failing to salute, failing to show up for stances and meals! You two are in big trouble!" Whatever happened next, I could not remember for I passed out from fright.


	10. Chapter 10

**I am poor. I own nothing.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Ten**_

I woke to the familiar musty scent of my jail cell. Whimpering I sat up and then stood. Erik lay on the bunk above mine, his feet dangling off the edge of the bunk at his knees. It was strange to see him in a bright orange jumpsuit and without shoes, a mask, or a wig. I looked down at my own jumpsuit, good old eight thousand, two hundred and twenty-six. I walked over to the bars, my bare foot scraping the floor and my metal one clanging against the damp, cold stone. I placed my hands on the bars and called out to my old guard. "Sir?" He looked over at me. "Sir, could you please allow me to speak with my complex manager?" Knowing I would never stop pestering him, he went off down the hall. I turned back to the cell and climbed the ladder to Erik's bunk. I shook him awake and he sat up, nearly banging his head on the low ceiling. He looked around and rubbed his eyes before noticing he no longer had a mask. He covered his face but I pulled his hands away. "Welcome to jail, number eighty-six thousand, five hundred twenty-six. Stop it. Doing that will only make this worse."

"How could this get any worse?" He motioned to the cell.

"They could cut off your hands." He looked over at me with wide eyes.

"They are allowed to do that?" He laid back and looked over at me from his strange position.

"They can do anything they want." He sat up and banged his head this time. I jumped down and sat down on my bunk. "Perhaps we should swap bunks?" Erik jumped down and sat next to me.

"Yes, we should."

"Hey, you, what do you want?" My complex manager yelled from the hall. I stood and made my way to the bars, Erik behind me. "And who is he? He is not in our database."

"Sir, this is Erik Destler, sir. If you trust me, please do not ask what happened to us, sir, it would only cause more confusion, sir. Anyways, to my point, sir. It is obvious that when you raided my complex that there was a great number of objects found, sir. One of these objects resided on my bed, sir. It was a black leather case, sir. I ask you, very politely so, sir, to please bring me it and it's content, sir." He opened his mouth to protest. "Please, sir, we will ask nothing more of you than this, sir."

"Will you allow me to see what is in the case?"

"Of course, sir."

"Alright, I suppose since you asked nicely I will bring you this case. As for him..." He walked back down the hall and I turned to Erik triumphantly. We sat on my bunk and I watched Erik tap out melodies on his thigh.

"I just happened to think of a strange question." Erik looked over at me. "We are of two different genders. Why would they put two different genders in the same cell?"

"I see your point. To tell you the truth, they know I cannot reproduce and as for you, it is basically the same principle as your time. Now, travel back about and eon and people would practically murder to touch you because you are the Phantom. At that point, for some people, the Phantom was life. Nowadays, no one knows who the Phantom is, or even what music is because that all died out. My family was the only family to keep it going. I bet you, if you go out there and ask any random person if they know what music is, they will look at you as if you are speaking another language. Destlers are meant for music, is what I believe." Erik seemed bewildered but said nothing.

"So you mean to say, there is no music?"

"Pretty much."

"I feel like I am going to be sick." I tried not to laugh but it was just too hard. Unfortunately, this became true and he vomited, at least into the toilet. He continued being sick for a while after that. My complex manager came back down the hall with the violin case in his hands. He approached the bars and looked through them and the convulsing Erik.

"What is wrong with him?"

"It is better not to ask, sir. It is a long story, sir." He unlocked the cell and handed me the violin case. He pulled up a chair from the wall and sat down on the other side of the cell.

"So what is that and why do you want it so badly?" I sat down on the floor and opened the case. The manager just looked more confused.

"This is a musical instrument called a violin." If he could look any more confused, he did. I opened a canister of rosin and let the scent drift over to Erik who was at my side immediately though deathly pale. "Go ahead, Erik." I watched the complex manager as Erik delicately lifted the bow and rosined it then took the violin beneath his chin. The manager looked so confused and I nearly laughed. As the first few notes were played, the manager nearly covered his ears. The tune he played was very unfamiliar. Erik circled around me as he played and began to sing.

 _"You have come here, in pursuit of your deepest urge, in pursuit of that wish which till now has been silent, silent. I have brought you that our passions may fuse and merge. In your mind you've already succumbed to me, dropped all defenses, completely succumbed to me. Now you are here with me, no second thoughts. You've decided, decided. Past the point of no return, no backward glances. The games we've played till now are at an end. Past all thought of 'if' or 'when'. No use resisting, abandon thought and let the dream descend. What raging fire shall flood the soul? What rich desire unlocks its door? What sweet seduction lies before us? Past the point of no return, the final threshold? What warm, unspoken secrets will we learn beyond the point of no return?"_ The complex manager looked completely and utterly entranced. He began to drift down the hallway halfway through Erik's verse and when he returned, several guards and complex managers followed him. I felt a sudden welling and I somehow knew the lyrics to his music.

 _"You have brought me to that moment where words run dry. To that moment where speech disappears into silence, silence. I have come here hardly knowing the reason why. In my mind I've already imagined our bodies entwining, defenseless and silent and now I am here with you, no second thoughts, I've decided, decided. Past the point of no return, no going back now. Our passion play has now at last begun. Past all thought of right or wrong. One final question: How long should we two wait before we're one? When will the blood begin to race? The sleeping bud bursts into bloom? When will the flames at last consume us?"_ We began to circle each other now until we stood back to back and sang the final verse.

 _"Past the point of no return, the final threshold. The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn. We've passed the point of no return."_ When I spun back around to Erik's side he finished the notes and let his arms hang at his sides, violin and bow in hand. We both bowed and as I looked up, the managers and guards began to clap, slowly at first, then with more vigor until this turned to chants for more.

"No, I am afraid we cannot play more for you. Perhaps on the morrow?" They agreed and left. I looked over at Erik who had a smile and more colour to his face. "Your violin was out of tune, you know?"

"Of course I know. By the way, I bought this violin for you."

"You were stalking me?"

"No..."


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey look. The End. Bye.**

* * *

 _ **Epilogue**_

 _ **Ten years later...**_

We walked peaceably down the road, my navy blue dress swaying around me and Erik's cashmere cape fluttering behind us. His arm rested on my shoulder and my robotic fingers were entwined with his gloved ones. He held what was supposed to be my violin in his other hand.

"Look, look, Mama! It's them!" Erik and I turned to see a five year old running up to us. I bent down to give the boy a hug. "You are so beautiful, Mistress Tantomile. I want to be like you some day, Master Erik." Erik kneeled down to level with the boy. He whispered something in the boy's ear and the child smiled with wide eyes. Erik pulled back and the boy hugged him. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" The boy retracted and went back to his mother who smiled over at us. I waved and Erik and I continued on our walk.

"So, what did you tell him?"

"That if he really wants I can make him and instrument. Mind you, a simple one. A harmonica."

"Oh. Have fun with that."

"I shall." We continued walking until we reached the centre of town where a stage was set up for us. Erik and I stepped up and waited for the crowd to accumulate. I straightened out my skirts and Erik his tailcoat. Erik drug me backstage and told me to remove my dress.

"Why?"

"Just do it." I pulled off my dress, forgetting that I had another set of clothes underneath. This was a very tightly fitting leotard, tights, and undershirt which were also very thin. A string of pearls were sewn into the neckline. The whole costume was coloured white, black, and orange. Erik handed me a pair of black and white ballet shoes and a spiked collar. "Trust me." I sighed and put on both articles. He then produced a very colourful and fluffy wig of black, white and orange. He went behind mae and pulled up my hair, putting it on. He came to my front and pulled out a palette of paint. He began to paint my face.

"Erik, what are you doing?"

"You will see very soon, love." He finished what he was doing with me then sat down with a mirror in his hands. He took off his mask and began painting his own face. He then removed his wig and took another wig that matched my own and put it on. He pulled off his own clothes to reveal a costume similar to mine. "Crinkle your nose, dear." I did so and he smiled. I then realized something about his costume. It made him look like a cat. I looked up and down at myself.

"Erik, why do we look like cats?" I whined.

"You will see. Now, I want you to take this bag," he handed me a dingy looking bag" and go up through that hole in the stage right there. I want you to laugh like you are up to no good. From that point on, follow my lead." I put the bag over my shoulder and climbed up through the opening. I emerged from a painted pile of junk. I laughed a high pitched laugh and the audience hushed, looking incredibly confused. Erik appeared behind with his violin and bow over his shoulder. I mimicked his moves, climbing down and backing up against each other. I dropped my bag but he held his violin fast. He began to play a strange melody as we sauntered around the stage. Erik eventually stopped and began to sing. I recognized the song by that very first line. _"Mungojerrie."_

 _"And Rumpleteazer."_ I replied.

 _"We're a notorious couple of cats. As knockabout clowns, quick change comedians, tight-rope walkers and acrobats."_ I did my cartwheel, nearly falling over. Luckily, Erik had made modifications to the song so I could regain my breath.

 _"We have an extensive reputation."_ I sang.

 _"We make our home in Victoria Grove."_ Erik added while I pretended to type on a typewriter. Through the whole song, I did both of our moves.

 _"That is merely our center of operation, for we are incurable given to rove."_

 _"We are very well known in Cornwall Gardens."_

 _"In Launceston Place."_

 _"And in Kensington Square."_

 _"We have really a little more reputation than a couple of cats can very well bear."_

 _"If the area window is found ajar."_

 _"And the basement looks like a field of war. If a tile or two comes loose on the roof."_

 _"Which presently fails to be waterproof."_

 _"If the drawers are pulled out from bedroom chests and you can't find one of your winter vests."_ I pulled gently at the shirt Erik wore.

 _"Or after supper one of the girls suddenly misses her Woolworth pearls."_ I pulled lightly at the string of pearls on my neckline.

 _"The family will say, 'It's that horrible cat!'"_

 _"Was it Mungojerrie?"_ Erik stepped forward to centre stage.

 _"Or Rumpleteazer!"_ I nudged Erik aside.

 _"And most of the time they leave it at that! Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer have an unusual gift of the gab."_

 _"We are highly efficient cat burglars as well."_

 _"And remarkably smart at a smash-and-grab."_ I swiped my hands. _"We make our home in Victoria Grove."_

 _"We have no regular occupation."_

 _"We are plausible fellows who liked to engage a friendly policeman in conversation. When the family assembles for Sunday dinner with their minds made up that they wouldn't get thinner on:"_

 _"Argentine joint."_ I bent down and pretended to eat.

 _"Potatoes and greens."_

 _"Then the cook would appear from behind the scenes."_ I rolled onto my back and stuck out my legs, clawing at the sky as Erik walked in circles around me.

 _"And say in a voice that was broken with sorrow."_

 _"'I'm afraid you must wait and have dinner tomorrow."_

 _"For the joint has gone from the oven like that!'"_ I sat up.

 _"The family will say, 'It's that horrible cat!'"_ I stood and ran about the stage.

 _"Was it Mungojerrie?"_

 _"Or Rumpleteazer!"_ I nudged Erik aside again.

 _"And most of the time they leave it at that! Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer have a wonderful way of working together."_ Erik bent over and I ran and jumped over his shoulders.

 _"And some of the time you would say it was luck."_

 _"And some of the time you would say it was weather."_

 _"We go through the house like a hurricane."_ I cartwheeled and lost balance.

 _"And no sober person could take his oath."_

 _"Was it Mungojerrie?"_

 _"Or Rumpleteazer?"_ Once again, I pushed Erik behind me.

 _"Or could you have sworn that it might have be both?"_

 _"And when you heard a dining room smash."_ I jumped around the stage feeling like an idiot.

 _"Or up from the pantry there came a loud crash."_ I reached up my arms and jumped.

 _"Or down from the library there comes a loud ping."_ I leaned over along with Erik and shuffled across the stage.

 _"From a vase which was commonly said to be Ming."_

 _"The family would say: 'Now which was which cat?' It was Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer and there's nothing at all to be done about that!"_ Erik placed both violin and bow in one hand and lifted me up on his hip. The crowd applauded as we jumped through the hole we came up through. Hurriedly we washed off our face paint and threw back on our usual clothes. We came out on stage again and bowed as the crowd cheered. Looking out at our crowd, I now reflect.

Ten years ago, Erik and I met and were imprisoned.

Nine years ago, we were taking the world by storm with our music of the night.

Eight years ago, Erik's architectural talents were discovered by the government.

Seven years ago, complexes were being destroyed and rebuilt as houses under Erik's guiding hand.

Six years ago, we found seeds and spores in our clothes and took to planting and caring for them.

Five years ago, while excavating, they found and underground river system which Erik crafted filters for.

Four years ago, the first expeditions were made outside the dome.

Three years ago, the first robotic animals were made.

Two years ago, the regime was broken.

One year ago, the world became a better place.


End file.
